


something good can work

by phanatics



Series: kurodai week 2k17 [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Awkward Kissing, Bad Ideas, Blind Date, M/M, for a fic based off the prompt 'blind date', kuroo makes bad decisions, spread the word, stealing song names for my titles again because im lazy and unoriginal, they're in college, this sure has very little actual blind date in it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-24 18:42:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10747584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phanatics/pseuds/phanatics
Summary: In which Kuroo meddles and Daichi becomes his unwilling sidekick.(Day 4:blind date/ shotgun wedding)





	something good can work

**Author's Note:**

> i have vaguely important exams in less than two weeks and i think im only just now acknowledging that trying to churn out eight pieces of fanfiction while simultaneously attempting to revise has not been my,,,, smartest decision ever
> 
> the moral of the story here, kids, is don’t procrastinate a half finished fic until the night ur supposed to post it because it will, for sure, turn out shit. i just cant seem to be able to write this out in the same way i envisioned it and im giving up
> 
> maybe someday i'll come back to this mess and edit it profusely but for now im just going to dump it and run

It’s quarter to eight on a Friday morning when Kuroo first approaches him with a shifty look on his face.

“Sawamura, I need your help.”

“No.” Daichi doesn’t even have to think about it; he’s still in his pyjamas, tufts of hair sticking out in random directions and eyelids still heavy with sleep, and he knows that any idea that Kuroo has before lunchtime is bound to be a terrible one. He idly scratches at his chest as he shuffles straight past Kuroo and into their apartment kitchen. He has a class in forty-five minutes and he’s on a tight schedule.

Kuroo trails after him like a lost puppy, whining his name again.

“Sawamura, hear me out, okay?  I have an idea but it’s not going to work without you.”

Daichi really does think that he’s too nice for his own good, because he reaches the kitchen, heaves a sigh and stops moving, staggering a little as Kuroo bumps into his back before steadying himself on the closest wall.

He turns to Kuroo. “What do you want.”

Kuroo beams at him, rubbing his hands together like a shitty movie villain with a shitty evil plan. “You know Oikawa Tooru?” Daichi makes a vague noise of recognition. “Well, since I’m such a good friend, and he keeps complaining to me about how lonely and single he is, I’m setting him up on a blind date.”

“Okay. And?”

“ _And_ I’ve decided to set him up with Sugawara. You know, your _best friend_. I’m ninety-five percent sure they’ve never met and I really think they would get on well together.”

Daichi blinks and yawns widely. “What’s your point, Kuroo?” He pushes himself off the wall and makes for the fridge, pulling open the door and bending to peer inside. “If you want my blessing or some shit, you’ve got it. I don’t care who Suga dates.”

“I want you to come with me tomorrow morning to keep an eye on their date.”

Daichi stops. Straightens. Fixes Kuroo with a blank stare for long enough that Kuroo starts to shift uncomfortably on the spot. “You’re telling me that Oikawa _wants_ you to stalk him on a first date?”

“Well, no,” Kuroo admits, a little sheepishly. “Honestly? He’d kick my ass if he knew I was spying on him.”

“Then why does it make a difference if I go with you?”

“Oh, it doesn’t.” Daichi’s sleepy frown flattens into a distinctly unimpressed expression as Kuroo carries on talking. “It would just be more fun to have some company.”

“Kuroo, no.”

“Come on, Sawamura! Sugawara’s your friend; wouldn’t he want you to be there for him?”

“He definitely would not. I’m not getting caught up in one of your terrible ideas.”

“I’ll do your laundry for a month.” Daichi didn’t think that Kuroo would resort to begging, but he doesn’t let it sway him.

Daichi once again pauses his rifling through the fridge to shoot Kuroo a disgruntled glare. “Tempting, but you don’t even do your _own_ laundry.”

“Fine, then! I’ll do my own laundry for a month!”

He finds the milk and swings the door shut, humming in thought. “You do realize your bribes aren’t supposed to get _worse_ , right?”

“Sawamuraaaa,” Kuroo wheedles. “ _Pleeeeease_.” He flops dramatically over the kitchen counter, pouting as Daichi calmly grabs a bowl and a box of cereal from an overhead cupboard and starts putting pouring out his breakfast, taking no notice of him. Kuroo huffs in annoyance as Daichi turns his back to him, leaning against the counter to shovel cereal into his mouth.

“Betrayed...” he laments quietly, “...by my own roommate.” He continues grumbling at the solid expanse of Daichi’s back as he continues being ignored. But Kuroo’s nothing if not persistent – some would call it ‘provocative’ but Kuroo just believes that there’s nothing wrong with annoying people enough until they give into what you want.

“Why can’t you ask Bokuto?” Daichi asks suddenly through a mouthful of cereal, foregoing the silent treatment because it’s clear that it’s not going to make Kuroo leave him alone. He looks over his shoulder at the pathetic mess behind him. “Isn’t he supposed to be your partner in crime?”

Kuroo pauses his wallowing to raise his head and then further raise an eyebrow in Daichi’s direction. “Have you _met_ Bokuto?

Daichi considers this for a second before shuddering slightly. “Fair enough,” he murmurs, as his eyes obtain a far-away look and various disaster scenes start unfolding in his head. And that’s the end of that conversation.

 

* * *

 

It’s twenty past nine on that same Friday evening when it comes up again.

Daichi is half-asleep over an unfinished calculus exercise, and he can feel himself sinking further and further into the sofa as he struggles to focus on the algebraic fraction that he has yet to solve. His feet are propped up on Kuroo’s lap, who’s sitting at the opposite end of the couch and flicking through television channels, bored. He’s playing with the ankle hem of Daichi’s sweatpants, probably without even realizing. Kuroo likes to fidget. The light from the screen washes the dark room in pale, electric blue; warmer, yellow lights glitter on the black horizon outside the window. There are empty take-out containers on their low coffee table, because neither can be bothered to cook on Fridays; it’s peaceful, almost domestic, until Kuroo decides to open his mouth.

“Hey, Sawamura, remember what I said earlier?”

A grumbling noise erupts from the back of his throat as the temporary tranquillity is shattered. He finally gives up on his homework and throws it on the table, resolving to finish it some other time. “You said a lot of things earlier.”

“About Oikawa and Sugawara’s date.”

Daichi immediately clocks that Kuroo has purposefully caught him off-guard, the bastard. They’ve been sharing an apartment for almost two years now, because campus accomodation is expensive, and it seemed like the best option for a pair of broke university third years to rent out a space together – and over the years, both have picked up things about each other to exploit when they need it.

Daichi is especially pliant in that awkward stretch of time between early evening and midnight; it’s when the weight of the past day catches up with him and his mind becomes addled from sleepiness and idleness. At this point he’s lost track of the number of times that Kuroo’s sprung questions and favours on him in the drowsy hours of the late night with the full knowledge that he has a much higher chance of getting him to agree with whatever he wants. He already feels that he’s going to be fighting a losing battle tonight.

Kuroo doesn’t even give Daichi the chance to protest this change of topic. He starts listing off the reasons as to why it would be beneficial for everyone involved and the pros and cons of the situation, like he’s spent all day thinking of how to approach the subject, and Daichi isn’t even listening, instead taking the time to silently observe Kuroo as he launches into another point, gesturing wildly at nothing, eyes bright in the low light.

Daichi finds that he’s been watching Kuroo a lot recently when he should instead be listening to him. He thinks that there’s something aesthetically pleasing in the straight line of his nose, the fan of his eyelashes against his cheeks, the way his fringe falls in his eyes – if he was an artist, Daichi thinks he’d use Kuroo as his muse.

But he’s not an artist, he’s a mathematics student who struggles to even draw circles, so he concedes to just watch Kuroo, and appreciate.

Kuroo flicks him in the ankle and he startles back to the present again.

“You’re not listening to me.”

Daichi gives him a lazy smile and averts his eyes to a safer part of the room. There’s an interesting crack on the ceiling that he hasn’t noticed before. “Yeah, I’m not.”

“Sawamura, I would forever be grateful if you did me this one _teeny_ , _tiny_ favour.”

Kuroo begs and grovels and pleads and Daichi tries to stay strong, wants to say no, but there’s a soft spot deep inside of him that can’t resist how pathetically sad Kuroo looks to be denied of his company. And, despite how it may seem, he does genuinely enjoy spending time with his roommate. He doesn’t doubt for a second that this entire plan is going to go horribly wrong, but maybe he can get Kuroo to pay for his coffee in consolation.

He voices this last part aloud and gets a couch pillow to the face for his “blatant pessimism”, but Kuroo is beaming in that smug way of his that means he knows he’s got exactly what he wants through sheer force of annoyingness.

Daichi starts mentally preparing himself for what’s to come.

 

* * *

 

It’s exactly eleven in the morning on a dreary Saturday and they’re standing outside some quaint little coffee shop tucked into a narrow backstreet. Kuroo is pointing at the cute cat cartoons on the outside chalkboard menu, grinning, and Daichi admits that it’s a little endearing. Kuroo refuses to tell Daichi how he knows where Oikawa and Suga are going to be and at what time, instead winking at him and claiming it’s a secret, instead leading him blindly to the secluded

Daichi had received a phone call from Suga late last night and was forced to act like he was hearing it for the first time as Suga chattered to him about the date he was going to be going on tomorrow. He only half-listens as Suga excitedly wonders aloud about his mystery man, the other half of his brain working itself into overdrive as he thinks of what a terrible friend he is for letting Kuroo drag him along to meddle.

He attempts some last minute reasoning as they slip inside, but Kuroo isn’t having any of it. “Kuroo, they’re two of the most observant people I know, I don’t understand how you can’t see that this isn’t going to work.”

Kuroo just scowls at him and asks him what he wants to drink before slipping over to the counter and fishing money from his pockets. He keeps looking around shiftily and Daichi doesn’t miss the weird look that the barista gives him as he orders.

He’s wearing sunglasses despite the fact that it’s November and raining outside. He’s pulled the hood of his jumper up high enough to almost completely cover his hair, and as he comes back to their table he leans over his steaming drink, nursing his cold hands on it. Daichi is wearing a baseball cap and fake glasses despite the fact that it’s the worst disguise to ever exist and he’s sure to be spotted immediately if Suga so much as glances in their direction.

They’re sitting at a square table for two, tucked behind a large potted plant and Daichi grumbles that this is the most cliché place they could be hiding out until Kuroo kicks him in the shin and tells him to be quiet.

He would never admit it, but there is a tiny part of him that also wants to see how this date is going to pan out, and he muses to himself as he waits for his coffee to cool. Despite the sharing of mutual friends, Daichi doesn’t think that Suga has ever acknowledged Oikawa Tooru’s existence, much less _met_ him, and even Daichi hasn’t come face to face with him, despite the fact that he is, according to Kuroo, one of his closest friends.

Although Daichi’s never met Oikawa personally, he sure has heard a lot about him; he’s a frequent subject of the college rumour mill and if he’s basing his impression just on that, it’s not overwhelmingly great. Daichi’s heard that he’s a player, he once slept with a teacher for a grade, he’s the leader of a mafia gang; and, well, Daichi doesn’t quite believe any of it. But he knows for sure that Kuroo trusts him, and if there’s one thing he’s learnt about Kuroo, it’s that he’s a surprisingly good judge of character.

He and Kuroo sit mostly in anticipatory silence. Daichi thinks that in another situation, at another time, he could maybe treat this as a date as Kuroo’s eyes continually dart around the coffee shop, on edge and alert. But it’s not a date, and he gets out his phone as they wait, without fear of seeming rude, because Kuroo is clearly too preoccupied to hold a normal conversation and he might as well reply to some messages while they wait.

It’s eleven thirty two when the front door swings open and the bell chimes, announcing a front of cold air and the arrival of their two victims. Suga’s laugh rings out above the murmur of conversation around them and Kuroo, who had been slowly relaxing and slipping down in his chair, sits up ramrod straight, like someone’s just poured ice down the back of his shirt. Now that they’ve actually arrived, and there’s no escape without being spotted, Kuroo doesn’t look so confident about his idea anymore.

Daichi leans forward across the table and beckons for Kuroo to mirror him so that they can talk to each other without being overheard. He can hear distantly hear Suga’s voice, and he prays that they aren’t seen.

“What’s the plan now, genius?” he murmurs, letting the bite slip into his tone.

“Well, first, we roll back the attitude a bit.” Kuroo looks pointedly at him over the tops of his sunglasses and Daichi sighs.

“Fine. And then?”

Kuroo doesn’t answer for a moment, instead peering over Daichi’s shoulder. They had slipped into the coffee shop and found the most hidden table available, and Kuroo had immediately claimed the chair facing away from the back wall. From his current position he can see the entire layout of the coffee shop and Daichi dutifully took the seat opposite him, back to the room, not really caring if he can see or not. He’s only in it for the free drink.

“Okay, so I can see them.”

Daichi rolls his eyes. “With those sunglasses on? It’s surprising you can even see at all.”

Kuroo just scowls and points a finger at Daichi. “Attitude. Not appreciated,” he says firmly, and Daichi raises his hands in half-hearted surrender and sits back in his chair again. Kuroo hums in thought as he looks past Daichi again, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

“I’m just gonna watch them for a bit.”

Daichi sighs, grievously, tiredly, regretfully. He returns to his phone.

He doesn’t know how much time passes as he sits there, bored out of his mind. He’s an organised man, there’s not really anything that he needs to do urgently, and there’s only so much Angry Birds he can play before he’s beginning to fall asleep in his chair.

“Sawamura!” Daichi doesn’t know how much time has passed when Kuroo’s voice startles him from his almost-nap.

Kuroo lurches across the table so suddenly that Daichi startles and his phone slips from between his fingers, clattering loudly on the wooden surface. He looks around, embarrassed, as multiple pairs of eyes flicker towards them, drawn to the noise before deciding it isn’t worth their attention. Daichi looks for Suga and Oikawa but – they’re gone.

“Sawamura.” Kuroo’s hissed call gets him facing forward again. “They both just got up to go to the bathroom and I think we should leave.”

“What do you mean, _leave_? What happened to your plan?” Kuroo is already standing up, chair obnoxiously scraping against the floor as he pushes it back. He takes off the sunglasses, eyes darting around nervously.

“New plan. We leave before we get caught.”

Kuroo doesn’t let Daichi protest, ushering him up and out of his seat, unsympathetic over the fact that he hasn’t even finished his drink. Daichi grumbles under his breath as Kuroo starts physically pushing him towards the door, manoeuvring between the tables at a slightly concerning speed. Daichi cringes as his thigh knocks against another table, sending it teetering.

Kuroo shoves him out the door with little ceremony. Daichi shivers at the cold air that greets him and pulls off the baseball cap to run a hand through his hair, fluffing it up again.

“That was exhausting and unnecessary,” he announces bluntly as the door swings shut, stretching his arms above his head to crack his spine. The chatter of the crowds indoors fades away. Kuroo makes a mildly offended noise behind him as he takes a few steps away from the entrance. Daichi turns to shoot him an unimpressed look.

“What were you even hoping to _achieve_ from this?” He stuffs the baseball cap into the pocket of his coat and takes off the glasses with considerably more care, folding them and tucking them into his other pocket. He admits that he was expecting something this pointless to come from one of Kuroo’s Bad Ideas, but he still feels strangely frustrated.

Kuroo shrugs as he comes up behind him, pulling off his sunglasses. He squints against the light, nose wrinkled in distaste. “I’m not too sure. But, hey!” His expression brightens as he swings an arm around Daichi’s shoulder, ruffling his hair. “At least you got to spend some quality time with your favourite roommate, right?”

Daichi ignores the way that Kuroo’s body pressed to his seems to perfectly block out the November chill and he sighs, shrugging off his arm in lieu of drawing him closer.

“Yeah, we really-”

Daichi’s reply dies in his throat as the door suddenly swings open and Oikawa’s voice carries over the threshold, closely followed by Suga’s bright laugh.

They both freeze.

“Shit,” Kuroo hisses and he looks around wildly, but there’s nowhere to hide. The voices are getting louder and Daichi and Kuroo exchange a panicked look.

“Okay, Sawamura, I’m sorry, but you’re just going to have to trust me,” Kuroo hisses out in a low breath. Daichi can’t even voice his confusion before Kuroo places his hands on his shoulders and starts pushing against him, driving him backwards and up against the stretch of brick wall beside the cafe, crowding into his personal space. Kuroo ducks his head down until their noses bump together.

“Public displays of affection make people uncomfortable,” Kuroo huffs out and Daichi can feel it fan across his lips. He traces the spray of the lightest freckles on the bridge of Kuroo’s nose through half-lidded eyes and tries to keep his cool.

“So kiss me,” he breathes in return as his stomach twists in anticipation. Hands move from his shoulders, sliding down his torso to slip under his bulky coat and hold tightly onto his waist; Kuroo leans his weight forward and Daichi can see that he’s trying to obscure their faces as best as he can. Daichi slips his hand round the back of Kuroo’s neck, tugging lightly at the messy hairs there to bring them closer.

They’re too awkwardly positioned for it to be great.

Kuroo tastes of coffee; his teeth catch on the edge of Daichi’s mouth as he presses forward and Daichi grunts in pain as he shifts to angle his head better. There’s a whispered “sorry” against his mouth before Kuroo tries again, softer, more hesitant. Daichi tries to listen out for any sign of Oikawa and Suga but the pounding of his heartbeat and the blood rushing in his ears drowns out anything else as Kuroo runs his tongue along his bottom lip. He yields and feels the air leave his lungs when the tips of Kuroo’s fingers dip underneath the hem of his sweater, cold against his skin.

The shock of the temperature is enough to draw Daichi out from the haze that’s settled over his mind; Kuroo starts nosing against his jaw, right across the pulse point in his neck, and he jerks back to reality.

“Kuroo.” It comes out as a strangled gasp, and Daichi clears his throat in embarrassment as he starts to withdraw his hands.

“Kuroo,” he tries again, a bit louder. “I think they’re gone.”

Kuroo stiffens, practically throwing himself away from Daichi and they break apart, flushed. They can’t seem to look at each other in the eye.

Kuroo’s voice cracks when he tries to speak, and he clears his throat, too loud. “Well, I think it worked?” There’s no one in sight.

Daichi brings his hand to his face, muffling his groan in his palm. “Let’s just go home,” he mumbles, rubbing his cheeks tiredly like the mask of red embarrassment is something he can easily remove.

The walk back to the train station is uneasy; the air is stilted, tense. Kuroo walks stiffly with his hands in his pockets, looking determinedly at anywhere but Daichi and Daichi just shuffles along beside him, thoughts racing faster than he can keep up as he tries to work out what just happened.

He checks his phone as they step onto the train platform; there are a slew of unread messages from Suga. He opens them, unsuspecting, and nearly drops his phone as he reads.

**From: Suga**

_> > [12:46] hope u and kuroo had fun! bit too much pda in my opinion but im glad ur happy_ _ヾ_ _(´_ _▽_ _｀_ _;)_ _ゝ_

_> > [12:47] tooru says “get some, tetsu-chan”_

_> > [12:47] [attached image]_

_> > [12:51] funny how we saw you tho!! almost like it was planned haha_

_> > [12:51] use protection _ _(°_ _◡_ _°_ _♡_ _).:_ _｡_

Daichi briefly contemplates throwing himself into the train tracks as the image downloads and a snapshot of Kuroo pressing him against a wall fills his screen, slightly shaky. Kuroo must see the sour look on his face, because he peers over, concern on his lips; he sees the photo and stops. Stares a little bit. Daichi peeks over as blood slowly rises to his face and Kuroo looks away again, expression strained; Kuroo shifts on the spot, adjusting his shirt as he coughs awkwardly.

“Sorry that Suga’s so creepy,” Daichi grumbles, turning off his screen and slipping his phone back into his pocket. There’s an awkward pause.

He hears a muttered “it’s kinda hot, though” after a few tense seconds and he sighs for what feels like the eightieth time that day as the train appears in the distance, speeding towards the platform.

He and Kuroo are going to be having a long discussion about this later.

**Author's Note:**

> im never writing proper kissing again i was sat with my head in my hands violently cringing as i forced myself to type it out and i regret Everything


End file.
